


For the Taste of Blood

by Satelesque



Series: Appleradio Collection [5]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Banter, Blood Drinking, Dinner, Foot Jobs, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex for Favors, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:07:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24707344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Satelesque/pseuds/Satelesque
Summary: Given how it started, it's only inevitable that in the long chain of deals and favors that is Alastor and Lucifer's relationship, at least a few of them would involve sex.
Relationships: Alastor/Lucifer Magne
Series: Appleradio Collection [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1780735
Comments: 8
Kudos: 83





	For the Taste of Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Well there has just been too much actual characterization going on in this series, so apparently I decided it needs some PwP, or at least as close to it as I tend to get.
> 
> What am I doing with my life?

The evening started simply enough, all things considered, even as plans for dinner turned to something more. Even as they set the menu, the terms, and the table, and even as Alastor bustled around preparing the food. The palace kitchen was a marvel, and it hadn’t taken a minute for Alastor to shoo out the servants and declare he was cooking dinner himself. Almost on the spot, he’d forgotten about the toy still inside him.

It was a small thing. Unobtrusive, even as he twisted around to catch a glimpse of it in the mirror. A deep black instead of the lurid colors one sometimes saw, no matter how hard one tried to avoid it. The power button was mildly concerning, but he held it down until the light flashed, inserted it as directed, and tried his hardest to pretend it wasn’t there as he dressed and met Lucifer in the kitchen. Within minutes it was startlingly easy, and there was plenty to distract him.

“Oh! Do you know what this was for?” he asked, pulling a bowl of rising dough from the refrigerator. “Dinner rolls? Great idea!” They would take at least another hour, but so would marinating the steak—origin unknown—and baking the potatoes. Alastor set the dough aside and resumed rummaging through cabinets in search of spices and cookware. Lucifer, unfortunately, was no help at all.

“Don’t you live here?” Alastor asked, shutting the door on a cabinet full of cereals.

“Yes, but not  _ here. _ ” He gestured vaguely around the kitchen. “Why would I cook when we don’t even have a deep fryer?”

For a moment Alastor paused in his search for olive oil, trying his best to set that implied culinary atrocity aside. Quickly he found it was impossible. “A deep fryer,” he repeated, risking a glance over his shoulder.

At some point Lucifer had either found or summoned a bar stool, leaned back, and rested his heels on an island. “Exactly! It’s the fastest, most versatile method of cooking you can get! You want bread? Make funnel cake. Veggies? Fries and onion rings. Meat? Just add breading and throw it in.”

“You are hereby banned from my kitchen,” Alastor said, finally finding the oil and slamming the cabinet with more force than it deserved. Before Lucifer could complain, Alastor had flipped on the radio, letting his magic fill the room with sound as he mixed spices and hummed along. The marinade was first, then shaping the dinner rolls, then getting the potatoes in the oven.

Between the songs, Alastor filled the air with idle chatter. Lucifer chipped in occasionally but was largely content to stay silent, and that was just as well. Supposedly the hallmark of a stable relationship was being comfortable in moments of silence, but that was dull advice for people who lacked creativity. Alastor would settle for comfort in one-sided conversation, but the look Lucifer was giving him wasn’t simple contentment.

At some point Lucifer had scooted his chair to the side, giving him a perfect angle on everything Alastor was doing. From the corner of his eye, Alastor could see Lucifer tracing the lines of his legs and waist, following his movements as he danced between workstations. Especially when the heat of two ovens and a stove convinced Alastor to pull off his coat and roll up his sleeves. It might have reminded Alastor of the toy if he hadn’t been more distracted by the unfamiliar feel of a breeze across his tail.

No, lost as he was in the cooking and conversation, it wasn’t until it was time to eat that he remembered. It wasn’t until Lucifer led him out to the veranda, pulled out a seat at a small glass table, and beckoned him over. The toy was an uncomfortable pressure when he sat, even as it pressed against something oddly pleasant, but even that was something he could get used to.

“What about dessert?” Alastor finally remembered to ask. It was, after all, the entire purpose of this evening, but he hadn’t bothered preparing it ahead of time.

But before Alastor could get up, Lucifer pushed his chair in, leaving barely an inch of space between him and the table. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll take care of it,” he said, his voice far too close to Alastor’s ears. His hand slid down to Alastor’s shoulder then across his chest, pulling him against the back of the chair. “You just sit back and enjoy your dinner.”

There was a faint click, and no amount of bracing himself could stop Alastor from gasping or jumping in his seat. Lucifer gave him a pleased hum and slid his hand up, smiling at the way Alastor let him tip his head back.

“Well, aren’t you compliant now?”

“Anything for you to sit down. A chef shouldn’t dig in before his guests, and our food’s getting cold.”

Anything to keep him from realizing that Alastor was still catching up, still trying to find a new balance within this feeling that was almost sound. It was tension and noise, resonating like a bass string deep inside him being endlessly, infinitely bowed. A note that went on forever—simple, loud, and impossibly compelling. It didn’t have the beauty of a melody, but something about it left him hungry for more.

But turning to follow Lucifer as he walked around the table didn’t help. Nor did crossing his legs as he picked up his knife and fork, waiting for Lucifer to take the first bite, and Lucifer stopped with a cut of steak just an inch from his mouth. “Can’t stay still?”

“Yes, yes, very clever with the glass table, Your Highness,” Alastor said with a wave and a roll of his eyes. “But when have I ever been known for staying still?”

Lucifer barely reacted, but this was how it always went. The same refusal to give even an inch unless Lucifer took it, but it wasn’t usually this easy. “You have a point,” Lucifer said. “Maybe we should make it more obvious. How about the next setting?”

“The next what?” Alastor said and nearly choked on the last word. His hands curled into fists around the utensils as the buzzing pitched higher. The breath caught in his throat, and the air filled with the low sounds of a radio skipping stations and Lucifer’s chuckle.

“Oh, you didn’t know?” he said. “Did you think that was it? Go ahead, guess how high it goes.” The smirk was wide across his face, but as he finally put the fork in his mouth, his eyes flew open. “This is good!”

“Of course it is,” Alastor started, but Lucifer was already talking over him.

“For an amateur anyway. The cooks could have done just as well, but this is almost worth waiting a couple hours to start playing with you.”

Amateur? It may have been technically true, but that was still insulting enough to cut through the distracting hum. “You think this is enough for me to make a mistake?”

“That’s not the point at all! I didn’t want to interrupt the show! The servants don’t have nearly as much fun with their work.” Lucifer took another bite, closing his eyes to savor the taste. “And yes. I don’t just  _ think _ it’s enough, I know it.”

Alastor narrowed his eyes. “And how’s that?”

“Your food’s getting cold.”

They both looked down at Alastor’s hands, still clenched tightly around knife and fork and braced against the edge of the table. It took more of an effort to move them than it should have, but Alastor made sure to keep a defiant stare trained on Lucifer as he cut off a slice and raised it to his mouth.

And it was perfect, the richness of rare steak underscored by the sharp taste of vinegar and spices. The meat was soft against his pointed teeth and oh so satisfying to cut through, and just as he closed his eyes to properly enjoy it, he heard another click. Alastor tensed, but all that happened was the toy inside him turning off, leaving him oddly bereft and all the more annoyed for it.

“You looked like you were having a bit too much fun there,” Lucifer said, idly spearing a piece of potato. “Most sinners don’t enjoy their food nearly as much, you know. Too busy complaining about their teeth.”

Alastor only widened his smile, showing off rows of sharp canines. “That’s because they don’t—” The vibrator jumped to life again, forcing his breath to hitch. “They don’t know how to take advantage. I’ve found they make a few of my hobbies much more rewarding. What are you doing?”

Lucifer was leaning over, reaching under the table to fiddle with the clasps of his boots. “Oh, never you mind,” he said. “Just enjoy the food.”

It was perhaps the first time Alastor had to be told twice to eat his own cooking, and he took another few bites, trying his best to keep his shifting around to a minimum. He uncrossed his legs, then recrossed them the other way, unsure if he was trying to get away from the buzzing inside him or lean into it. Nothing helped, and in the end, he couldn’t help but focus on the sight of Lucifer toeing off one boot and starting on the next.

“What, I’m not distracting you, am I?” Lucifer asked. “I haven’t even done anything. Not yet.” At the last word he pressed a foot down on top of Alastor’s, not enough to hurt or stop him from pulling away, just enough to know he wanted Alastor still.

It was hard to stay that way though, as Lucifer’s other foot curled around the back of his leg and started slowly sliding up to his knee then back down the front. It was impossible to ignore, not with his mind yelling at him about the intrusion in his personal space. Not with the sight of it just past his plate under the small glass table. Alastor took another bite, but it wasn’t the distraction he wanted, just another layer on top of everything else—the melt-in-his-mouth taste of a perfectly baked potato, rich with butter, chives, and sour cream. The pleased note he’d wanted came out wrong, too deep in his throat, more a moan than a hum.

But Lucifer managed it, his voice humming low and satisfied as he repeated the motion. “That’s right. Don’t hold back. Not for me.” His foot slid along Alastor’s other leg, then hooked behind to pull it off of his knee. “Ha, I thought so.”

It was obvious enough what he was talking about. The bulge in Alastor’s pants pressing against the cloth. The occasional twitches of his thighs, more obvious now that his legs were uncrossed.

“And this is only the second setting!” Lucifer said, infuriatingly gleeful as he dragged his foot up again. This time it wandered past Alastor’s knee, nudging them an inch farther apart on the way, then slid along the inside of his thigh before pulling away. It was almost disconcerting to watch, almost like a picture show. An untouchable world behind glass where Lucifer could play with him as he pleased, while in the upper world Alastor smiled and took another bite of steak.

Then the buzzing pitched up again, and Alastor’s fork clattered to his plate as the shiver ran all the way to his hands. He could feel his knees tense together then slide apart, and he could see it as if it was happening to someone else entirely. His breath came faster and shallower, but not enough to keep him from breaking the silence.

“Now that sure is something. I never did see the point of these when I was alive, but then nobody had thought to put an antenna on.” He looked up, meeting Lucifer’s eyes across the table. “So, how high does this go?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Lucifer said and ran his feet along Alastor’s calves again. When they reached his knees, they shifted apart another couple inches, a reaction that surprised Alastor almost as much as it did Lucifer. “You really would, wouldn’t you? Oh, just look how far you’ve come since the first time!”

“Your reward for a deal well made,” Alastor said, then leaned forward as much as the table would allow, his fingertips pressed against the glass. “Or would you rather I pretend to hate it? Oh Lucifer, no, don’t turn it up, whatever you do!”

Lucifer leaned in to match, a dark glimmer in his eyes. “Oh Alastor, you should watch what comes out of your mouth. I could get used to the sound of you begging.”

“Go on, then. What’s it worth to you? Make me an offer.”

Lucifer just tilted his head, putting on a considering look that Alastor knew was fake. His eyes were too focused, drinking in the tension in Alastor’s smile, the narrowing of his eyes, the shudders that ran up his spine, and the press of his fingers against the table to keep from curling into fists. The slight cant forward of his hips as Lucifer slid one foot closer along the inside of Alastor’s thigh.

But just before Lucifer made contact, he leaned back instead. “Not yet. I’ve promised you plenty already.” He took another bite of steak and twirled the fork in his fingers, rubbing his foot idly back and forth down Alastor’s leg. “Next time, I think.”

Alastor sighed and leaned back in his chair, letting out a low moan as it shifted the toy inside him. Lucifer took full advantage, inching his foot closer, just barely brushing against Alastor’s dick and pulling back. Alastor’s head tipped back, biting his lip to keep from sliding down the chair to follow the touch. The taste of blood drifted across his tongue, but it wasn’t time for that yet.

”Fine. Take as much time as you need,” he said. “You’ve got all of Hell at your disposal. I’m sure you’ll find something to give me.” Alastor held his arms out and angled his head forward just far enough to look at Lucifer, and for all that he expected it, the look of sheer hunger still forced him to swallow. It caught on his tie, but as he reached up to hook a finger under and loosen it, Lucifer’s voice stopped him.

“No. I’m having too much fun watching you fall apart still fully dressed. Or close enough anyway.”

Alastor raised a brow, not quite managing to disguise a shiver. “Oh? Should I put my coat back on?”

“Up to you,” Lucifer said, but he chose that moment to finally push forward. A click marked the vibrator turning up another notch, and the press of Lucifer’s foot against Alastor’s dick, even through the cloth, was almost enough to push him over the edge right then and there. One hand flew to his mouth, muffling a strangled moan as the other clutched the edge of the table. Then, as quickly as it had come, the buzzing stopped and Lucifer pulled away.

“That was close,” he said, not quite laughing but light enough to make his amusement clear. “It’s so hard to tell with you. My perfect radio host, always with something to say, never missing a word. Oh, I wonder how you’ll beg. Not the usual, “Lucifer, please!” I’m sure. You’re better than that.”

The words gave Alastor a chance to catch his breath, to lean against the table and stop his hips from searching for a feeling they wouldn’t find, to keep his hands from reaching down even though it was oh so tempting. There was a reason Lucifer had pushed his chair so close to the table. Below the glass was his domain, a deal they hadn’t put into words but implied so strongly that Alastor didn’t dare break it. He’d come much too far to lose his reward now.

“Exactly,” he answered. “And I expect a payment to match. Speaking of which, how long until dessert?”

He expected the click but still jumped when the vibrator turned on. It was too low to get him any closer no matter how he squirmed. He knew it but couldn’t stop himself anyway, trying to disguise the motion by resting his hands on the table and his head in his hands. Maybe Lucifer’s amusement was because he’d seen through it, maybe just because of his next words.

“Dessert? But you’ve barely touched your food!”

It was true enough. Alastor looked down at his plate, still untouched since he’d dropped his fork, and picked it back up with a sigh. “I’m sure it’s too much to hope for you to let me eat in peace.”

“Now, is that really what you want?”Lucifer asked, setting his foot back on Alastor’s chair. The silence as he slid it forward was answer enough, and once again, even through the cloth, the slow up and down press against Alastor’s dick drew out soft moans and radio static. “No, I didn’t think so. Now, four’s too much, but I think you can take two. For a while anyway.”

This time when Lucifer reached into his pocket, he drew out the device responsible. A small remote, just as black as the toy and barely bigger than a finger. The click was clearer this time, a sharp first sound when Lucifer pressed the button and a second, quieter, as he released it and Alastor struggled not to grind his hips against Lucifer’s foot. Instead he brought his hands back to his plate to cut another slice of steak. It was only then, as he looked past his plate, that he finally noticed Lucifer undoing his belt. He only barely managed not to ask the obvious question—what are you doing?—but it was a near thing, and Lucifer noticed anyway.

“Oh, don’t worry. You don’t have to do anything. Just watch.” And with nothing more than a glass tabletop in the way, Alastor didn’t have much choice. He could see every detail of Lucifer unzipping his pants, pulling out his already hard cock, and rolling his hips forward as he started stroking. The motion had his foot sliding against Alastor’s cock and earned him a grunt and a thrust in return. “Hm, or is that envy? I’m sure those pants must be feeling awfully tight by now, but you can’t do a thing, can you? Can’t reach down, can’t touch yourself. Just try it, and I’ll have your hands behind your back in a second. Or would you like that? Maybe I should cut them off instead, but knowing you. . .”

He drifted off with a smile, then tensed as his thumb ran over his head. The motion rolled down his leg, drawing a moan from Alastor that only had Lucifer canting his hips farther forward in a slow, perverse feedback loop. There was no getting away from it either. Lucifer’s foot was caught between his legs, and the vibrator was worse. It was securely inside him, perfectly in place to dance against sensitive nerves, and no amount of twisting would make it budge even an inch.

Closing his eyes didn’t help either. It only accentuated the sounds. The slip of skin against skin, the quiet clicks and breaths as Lucifer opened his mouth to slick his hand with saliva, the background noise of static mixed with his own moans, and the incessant, unavoidable buzzing of the vibrator. The only distraction was his food, the already lukewarm steak and baked potato. The taste was still excellent despite it, and better yet it kept his hands busy. No temptation to wander below the table as long as there was food to eat, and the moment he was done it’d be over.

But the timing didn’t line up. There was still a full corner left by the time Alastor felt himself getting close again, and Lucifer noticed too. His foot pulled away and his hand edged toward the remote. “You look like you could use a break,” he said, and that voice wasn’t helping matters any. It wasn’t Lucifer’s usual mirth, but something lower-pitched and breathy, and every fiber of Alastor’s being tensed in anticipation of danger. And he was right to. The next click wasn’t the sound of the vibrator turning down or off. Instead, it went up a speed.

Immediately Alastor’s knees were pressed together, his ankles curled around each other, and his hands clenched against his knife and fork. “Ah! Lucifer!” he forced out. “You seem to have hit the wrong button!” Lucifer didn’t answer, but him speeding up his strokes was enough to know Alastor was off the mark, as if he hadn’t known already. But he did have one last resort, one way to get out of this faster, and it always came back to his words.

“So this is what it comes down to, is it? This was what you wanted all along? Tell me, is it the idea of it you enjoy—the thought of another demon writhing and desperate under your control? Or is it because it’s me? Is it because I’m the one letting you do this, and I  _ am _ letting you. See, hands on the table, no matter what you’ll do. So what is it? What’s next? Choose quickly now, Lucifer dear. You don’t have much time.”

The last words came out wrong, the cadence too sharp to keep from stuttering, the pitch too high. It suited the speech perfectly, and Lucifer’s eyes widened to drink in a sight Alastor could only imagine. He’d never seen himself like this before, not in this body, but he could guess. The red would be bright on even his skin now, his pupils blown and his eyes glowing but heavy-lidded. Soft moans escaped as he caught his breath after his speech, then leaked into the ambient static as snatches of music as his mental dial spun. And above all else was the wide smile still sharp and defiant on his face.

“This is enough?” Lucifer muttered, his voice breathy and just as uneven. “For you to come?”

There was no right answer to that question, and Alastor knew what would happen even as he said it. “Yes,” he gasped, moments away, and even as he knew it was coming he still let out a groan as Lucifer clicked the vibrator off. It was back within seconds, but too low, not enough no matter how Alastor twisted around it.

“And now?” Even on the brink, Lucifer’s voice was layered with smug amusement.

“Take a guess,” Alastor said, and it was enough. Lucifer came with a groan, spilling on the ground at Alastor’s feet, then leaning heavily against the table. It shifted forward, pushing Alastor against his chair in a way that likely wasn’t intentional but still had his breath speeding up. It was a minute before Alastor looked down and realized Lucifer was staring at him and had been for who knew how long.

“So what do you think?” Lucifer asked, low and satisfied. “How long could I keep you like this?”

“Who knows,” Alastor shrugged. “This is your end of the deal, as long as you give me mine. How long do you want?”

“You should know the answer to that,” Lucifer chuckled, and as he sat up he once again raised his feet under the table. They didn’t stay for long, stopping only to push Alastor’s knees apart before pulling away, as if all he wanted was the sight of Alastor spread open before him. “That’s better,” he all but confirmed, then let out a sigh. “But I suppose it’s about time for the next course. We can’t wait all night, and you’ve been so good today.”

For a moment Alastor tensed, half expecting a servant to run outside carrying dessert, but it was a useless concern. More than sparing Alastor’s dignity, Lucifer wouldn’t allow anyone else to see this, not when it was for him alone. Instead, he raised his hand for a snap, and two martini glasses appeared on the table, topped with perfect spheres of shaved ice.

“Wonderful presentation,” Alastor said, “but why are there two?”

For a while Lucifer seemed to have ignored him, launching into a speech of his own. “It never ceases to amuse me how willing you are to whore yourself out for favors. That is what you’re doing, in case you haven’t noticed. But just for tonight, I’m willing to offer a change of terms.” Slowly Lucifer raised his hand over a glass and slid a claw across his palm, letting the blood drip down and soak into the ice. “Let’s make it an even trade. Blood for blood. Then all of  _ this—” _ He waved in Alastor’s general direction, scattering droplets across the table. “Will be just the two of us enjoying ourselves, no strings attached. What do you say?”

For long seconds Alastor said nothing as layers and layers of irritation piled up. None of the reasoning was flawed, but all of it was based on so many flawed premises that the whole lot of it came out as so much garbage. “A precedent,” Alastor finally muttered.

“Hm?”

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? A precedent, so next time you have an excuse to start this again but without a reward. But all of  _ this? _ I could do without.  _ You’re _ the one who wanted it. You’re the one who asked. I’m not whoring myself out any more than you’re giving out your blood on tap.” The words rankled to say, and Alastor’s lip curled in disgust, but that disgust was a focus. It was an island of stability just long enough to get the speech out, and Alastor finished with a glare across the table. “And for that matter, neither am I giving mine. Not for free, not even for you.”

Lucifer matched the glare perfectly. “Is that so? And how are you planning to stop me? I could pin you down and tear you apart right now.”

“Is that an offer?”

For a while the two only stared, eyes wide, while Lucifer’s cut healed and the drip of blood slowed and stopped. The only sounds were the hum of static and vibration and Alastor’s breathing, heavy and irregular. At least until he chuckled and spoke. “I have a better one. This toy.” The word came out with a sneer. “How high does it go?”

“Curious one, aren’t you?”Lucifer said, then let out a laugh, and that was as much an agreement as any words could have been. “Your hand,” he said, holding his own out above the second glass. It wasn’t necessary by any means. Alastor’s claws were plenty sharp enough to cut himself, but it was an acknowledgment. The sharp pain as Lucifer’s claw slowly dragged against his palm, the way Alastor twisted in his seat and didn’t pull away—all of it was a promise that Lucifer’s other offer was more than an eventual maybe. Just not today.

“So, are you going to count down?” Alastor asked as they exchanged glasses and picked up their spoons. Lucifer’s smile was answer enough, and Alastor might’ve laughed if not for the anticipation coiling through him. “No? As you wish, then. Cheers!” He clinked his spoon against the side of the glass, took a scoop, and heard the clicks the moment it touched his tongue. There were more than he could count, more than there had to be settings on the toy, but he noticed three before it was too much. All of it too much, with what felt like lightning inside him and his ankles catching on the legs of the chair and his arms crossing against his chest to keep from wandering, claws digging into his shoulders and the pain only melding with everything else.

And above it all, the taste on his tongue was absolutely glorious. Icy cold, freshly spilled, and so layered with magic that his nerves stung from it. It was utterly foreign, angelic, and bitter like poison, but only until the first taste passed. Then the burn switched to something familiar, not cleansing fire but hellfire and brimstone and the weight of so many souls’ worth of power that Alastor couldn’t even begin to start counting. Not that he would have made it past two before release hit him, a mad rush that left him curling against the table, moaning loud into his closed mouth, lips shut tight to keep even a drop of ice from slipping out. It came in waves, crashing through him over and over until the storm passed and he slowly realized it was quiet. No buzzing, and the static muted and soft like snow. There was a pool of melted ice in his mouth, and he was breathing heavily through his nose, and finally he uncurled himself, swallowed, and took a deep breath.

“So,” came the sound of Lucifer’s voice. “Did you find out how high it went?”

“Seven?” Alastor threw out at random, and Lucifer laughed and slid the remote across the table.

“Try again. If you’re still curious, that is.”

“Another day, maybe,” Alastor said, then blinked in surprise that he’d meant it. This was different, he told himself. Easy, pleasant, and no need to get anyone else involved, or so he told himself before shaking his head. “Maybe. But for now, my dessert is getting warm.”

**Author's Note:**

> For Day 4: Tasting blood, even if it's a day late and probably more in other time zones.
> 
> I'll be skipping Day 5 and probably doing Day 7 before Day 6, but I do want to get the rest of these done eventually.


End file.
